


Simmer

by bidness



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Bartender!Magnus Bane, Excessive use of italics, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Mundane Magnus Bane/Mundane Alec Lightwood, Night Clubs, POV Alec Lightwood, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23474848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bidness/pseuds/bidness
Summary: Alec's just been dumped, and suddenly everyone thinks it's a good idea to take him out clubbing? But it's not a good idea, it's avery bad ideabecause now he keeps coming back to this club -thisbar- and he hardly even drinks or dances but he wants to keep coming back because his bartender is kind of cute, and shares his food with him, and he doesn't even know his name yet.Alternatively: Alec is a jumbled pining mess who doesn't realize he kind of likes Magnus, and just might be a stalker in ~12k words.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Andrew Underhill, Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68





	Simmer

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Hayley Williams song 'Simmer' that I listened to probably 10+ times while I wrote this.
> 
> And also because I'm perpetually cold, so I'm trying to warm myself through fic titles. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

There’s a chill in the air, sharp and biting that causes a shiver to run through Alec’s spine, makes his hands tingle with the need to work the warmth of his breath into them. He hates being cold, hates the way his joints ache. But Izzy’s different, she loves the cold. Her body is acclimated to the colder temperatures and her outfit tonight as she drags him through the too-crowded sidewalk is definitely not something he approves of, least of all in this kind of weather.

_She’s trying to help,_ he reminds himself. His eyes fall to their joined hands, her glittery nails reflecting the city lights back at him, and the ache pulsing in his joints diffusing inwards to his heart. He’s the idiot who had to go and get dumped, and his sister is the one who is just trying to get him back on his feet because he’s too much of a coward to do it himself. 

He’s pulled out of his self-deprecation with a tug on his arm, and the bright lights of New York are shifted into the dimmer lights of the club they’ve just entered. Alec doesn’t know the name, doesn’t bother figuring it out because he’s not coming back after tonight. 

He feels the music through his feet and high above him. It’s not as loud as the other clubs Izzy’s dragged him to before, but it’s loud enough that she has to lean in close and remind him he needs to pull out his ID. 

The tugging is back, the physical one of Izzy’s nails scratching at the skin of his arms. He sees that she’s taking him to the bar, and he’s thankful that there are a few empty seats together. This is fine. They can just sit and have a nice chat over some drinks, a typical Thursday night for them.

Only the mischievous grin in Izzy’s eyes doesn’t give him peace of mind, and he reluctantly settles in one of the stools next to her. He really doesn’t wanna be here. He’d rather be at home, wrapped up in his comforter because it’s _freezing_ in their apartment, copious amounts of sweets and game shows as his only company for the night. It’s been working out for him so far. 

“Excuse me!” he hears her call out to the bartender across the way. “Can I get two shots of tequila please?”

Alec groans, slinking down to bury his face in his arms that are crossed on top of the bar table. “Iz, this really isn’t necessary. I’m _fine_.” 

“Alec, I’m sorry but I can’t come home every day to see you in the same spot, same clothes, single-handedly funding the chocolate industry with your heartbreak.”

He knows she’s right, knows that she’s doing this because she loves him. _At least someone does_ , his mind supplies and the cool mist of loneliness in his heart squeezes, holds tight to the part of Alec that keeps him alive, making him want to curl up even tighter. 

“Alright, but we’re only having a few drinks, and you’re not ditching me,” he says, peeking an eye at her that’s met with a secretive smile. She’s up to something. She’s bad at keeping secrets though, so he’s not worried, he’ll figure it out by the end of the night.

The shots arrive quickly, set down in front of Alec with a soft tap that makes him lift his head. “Here you are, my dears,” comes the voice above him, loud enough to cut through the music, but just barely.

He makes eye-contact with the bartender, meets the welcoming and flirty smile with a nod. Izzy thanks him, forces one shot into Alec’s hand and takes the other in her own before they clink them together and drink.

It burns, it always does at first, but Alec’s surprisingly fine with it tonight. The burn feels nice against his throat, warms him belly from the chill of outside, and it’s enough for him to raise a finger to order another. The bartender raises a brow, nods, and quickly brings them two more. _Fast service, probably expects a good tip._

Izzy is grinning, squeezing at Alec’s arm and holding on as they take the next shot, and he’s glad for the physical contact. Maybe that’s why he’s been so cold lately, he’s needed to be near people and not holed up in his room all week. The warmth in his stomach grows, and the heat of Izzy’s palm on his arm helps, but ultimately he knows it’s not what he needs. He’s missing something, _someone_ , in his life, and he could be wrapped up in the love of everyone he knows and still feel like he’s freezing. 

Izzy laughs beside him, brings him out of his thoughts and Alec starts to feel bad for spacing out until he notices the guy on her other side look proud of himself. _So it begins._

Alec tries not to let it vex him. He doesn’t need to be annoyed that Izzy’s trying to have a good time, because he didn’t want to be here in the first place, and yes she’s the one who dragged him out, but he’d be lonely anywhere. _Might as well drown it in alcohol._ He searches for the bartender again. There’s only one, but he doesn’t wait long, catches the man’s eye and feels a little disturbed by the need he feels to shift in his seat at the smile he’s given. 

He orders a beer, the first thing that comes to his mind because he really doesn’t drink beer, and resigns himself to a long night of fighting for Izzy’s attention with any guy who thinks he’s good enough for her.

They never are though, Izzy’s never brought home a guy that’s been deserving, that’s lasted longer than a few months.

_Neither have you,_ he reminds himself, scowling into his beer that’s really quite terrible, but more subtle than hard liquor in his quest to dull this ache he can’t get rid of. 

–

_This really isn’t fair,_ Alec grumbles to himself as he’s pushed towards a familiar door. It’s purple. Was it purple last time? He looks up, reads the neon sign that says Fire Arrow, and shuffles through. It’s a Friday, and Jace has successfully guilt-tripped him into letting him go through with “Mission: cheer Alec up.” 

It’s convoluted, makes no sense, but Jace is his best friend and though he knows no cheering up is happening on his part, he refuses to put a damper on the other man’s good mood. Izzy had tagged along, _I’m not letting you two have all the fun_ , she had said, and then promptly refused to leave the first club in favor of some meathead with huge biceps. 

He’s pushed onto a stool at a different side of the bar than he was at last week, but there’s only one seat open in the crowd. Jace leans in, his liquored breath ghosting over Alec’s ear in a way that makes Alec feel that sorrow again, and tells him to order drinks while he searches for the restroom. 

Part of him wants to leave. He’s not sure what it is, maybe it’s the fact that this place isn’t as hectic and loud as the previous two clubs, the reality that Alec can actually _think_ in here. This club is… different. It’s kind of nice, he notices as he surveys the room, the color scheme a deep purple and blue that actually look very nice together, accented by a generous amount of silver. 

“Back again?”

Alec turns to the bartender in front of him, the same man from last week. He’s got both hands flat on the bar top, and Alec can’t help but look him up this time. The dark purple polished nails, to the blue shirt that’s rolled up at the sleeves to give Alec a perfect view of the muscled skin, black vest adorned with a silver broach and necklaces. This guy is basically the bar, personified. _Maybe that’s the dress code_. 

When he reaches the man’s glitter and kohl-lined eyes he’s met with mirth, and he suddenly feels the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He coughs, redirecting his attention to his fingers which are a little too close to the polished fingers splayed out in front of him.

“You remember me?”

“I never forget a pretty face,” the man laughs, and Alec’s not too stunned to look up.

“Are you flirting with me?”

The man smiles, but doesn’t answer his question, instead looking around at the patrons beside him. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” He squeaks. _Smooth._

The bartender does a little flourish with his hands, and Alec tries not to stare at them for too long. “Y’know, gorgeous brunette who seemed a little more interested in everyone else, no offense. You looked like you were in a terrible mood.”

“I was,” Alec mumbles down at his hands, and he wishes he had a beer to fill the silence, because this guy is clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “I was dumped a couple weeks ago.”

It’s all he’s willing to offer right now, and he wants to clutch at the emptiness in his chest that only seems to fill with the cold. He shouldn’t be that sad, he could feel himself holding the relationship at a distance, scared to push himself towards the next step. It’s because this is what he’d feared, being alone and unwanted, but now that’s what he’s got.

The man places a hand on top of Alec’s linked fingers that are fidgeting far too much to not be considered a nervous tick, warm and comforting. He lets him, doesn’t make eye contact, doesn’t want to see the pity on anyone’s face, but lets the hand linger before it’s replaced by a beer and a shot glass filled to the brim.

“On me,” the bartender says, offering a concerned smile that softens the dull throb of Alec’s heart. “To failed relationships.” It’s an odd thing to cheer to, but Alec doesn’t mind. The bartender has his own shot stretched out towards him, and he clinks their drinks together and welcomes the sting of liquor, their eyes never dropping. 

The bartender offers him a wink, takes their glasses under the table and saunters away to help the other customers that are waving bills in the air.

Surprised, he takes the time to look to his left where there’s a crowd of people impatiently waiting to get their orders taken, the other guy behind the bar helping but clearly struggling to keep up. Alec watches, notices the confused stare he’s given by the other guy and a quick whisper of words that Alec’s too far away to hear. His bartender shrugs, offering a winning smile to the customers as he pours and mixes drinks with such a grace that Alec is envious. 

He tries not to think too much about the fact that his bartender— _god, not his bartender he needs to stop saying that—_ ignored all of these people on a busy Friday night to make conversation with Alec, of all people. He chalks it up to the $50 he remembers leaving last week in his inebriated state, and turns to look for Jace. 

He finds him a minute later, sitting and lip-locked with some redhead across the room, and _come on dude, it hasn’t even been 10 minutes._

With a roll of his eyes, he sighs and turns back to the drink at his hand and the bartender a few feet away. He sees him get stuck with a group of girls, his laugh ringing across the music and filling Alec’s head with pleasant thoughts and small talk as the night goes on and his mind becomes warm.

–

Alec glares up at the neon sign above his head, ignores the burly bouncer who’s watching him suspiciously. He swore that he wouldn’t come back, each time being left to fend for himself when he didn’t want to be there in the first place.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the nippy air that scratches at his lungs and makes him shudder like he does every night. 

It’s only been a few days, three to be exact. He’s hoping it’s quiet and he can actually get a full-fledged conversation in with his— _the_ bartender. Maybe finally have a name to match the face.

Inside is quieter than he remembers, the dancing part of the club sparsely littered with people who seem to be talking and swaying more than grinding and dancing like Friday night. _It is a Monday_ , he reminds himself. _And_ _9_ _pm._

What is he doing here? He has work tomorrow morning, has a job that requires him to not be blasted out of his mind, or hungover. He shouldn’t be here, but he is, and he has no idea why.

_Yes you do_. 

Irritated with himself, he takes the short distance to the bar which is just as empty as the rest of the club, sits himself in the furthest seat to the left and watches, waits for a familiar face. His bartender isn’t there, he notes, trying not to let himself feel anything. This is silly, and two beers into waiting, he’s already standing to leave. 

He turns swiftly, met with the firm body and scent of sandalwood, and it takes him longer than he’d like to realize he’s run into someone. _His bartender_. 

They’re close, close enough for Alec to feel their body heat warming the short space between them and he pulls back a step, his brain still registering the situation. Maybe two beers was too many.

“Pretty boy,” his bartender teases, and Alec stares at him, feels the heat from his palms burning into Alec’s arm where they’re connected. And not just there, he’s got one hand on his bartender’s side, his other hand grasping at the exposed elbow. He already took a step back, but they’re still _so close_ , and Alec stumbles to sit back in his seat.

“Don’t flirt with me,” he mumbles, pointedly glaring at the table.

“Sorry,” his bartender says softly, and Alec feels stupid. Feels even worse when the guy says: “Sorry for bumping into you, too. I wasn’t expecting you to leave, I shouldn’t have rushed by.”

Alec buries his face in his hands, groaning and rubbing friction to clear his brain from this confusing blur he’s feeling right now. “I’m so sorry,” he begins, lowering his hands and turning to look at the guy who’s seated beside him. “I was just leaving, I didn’t even look behind me.” 

“Why are you leaving so soon? You must have just gotten here.”

The tilted face in front of him brings the word _adorable_ to mind before he shoves it down and locks it away. 

“Yeah I, uh,” he doesn’t finish, takes a gulp of what’s left of his beer, which is really just a bit of foam. “Wait, where’d you come from? You weren’t here when I came in.”

He sounds creepy. This guy is gonna think he’s some stalker, or something, he’s sure of it. The sad thing is maybe he is. He came here for no reason other than to see his bartender, and now that he’s been caught he has no excuse in supply.

The guy holds up a small styrofoam box that smells _amazing_ , a small smile on his face. He doesn’t comment on the implications of Alec’s statement, he’s not sure if the guy realizes why Alec’s here or not but he’s thankful. 

“It’s my lunch break, I was getting some asada fries next door.”

“That smells delicious,” Alec tries not to moan. When was the last time he ate?

His bartender looks around the room quickly, makes eye contact with the other guy behind the bar, the same one from Friday, before he places the box on the table and opens it up. The smell is even more mouthwatering when it’s not contained, and Alec licks his lips. 

Before he can figure out what’s going on in front of him, his bartender is bent over the table top, his face disappearing as he searches upside-down for something behind the counter. 

Alec’s only human, he’s just a red-blooded man with a heart that’s beating too-fast and saliva pooling in his mouth from something other than the fries. And the ass that’s up in front of him draws his attention and he can’t help it. Can’t help the way he takes in the delicate curve that’s clearly toned from working out, the tight black jeans doing nothing to hide every shape. He notices the studded belt that holds those jeans in place, the burgundy red shirt tucked in and similar to the one from Friday night. He hears the tinkering of his bartender rummaging, the tapping of his necklaces and rings on the glass underneath him. For a second Alec thinks he might fall forward, and he wants to reach out and help him, make sure he stays in place, but _god_ , he can’t even move. 

He hears a victorious cry, and his bartender is back, flushed and fixing his hair as he holds out a fork to Alec.

“Share with me?” The smile he’s giving Alec is beaming, and he can’t help the loud laugh that breaks free from his chest. 

“Sure, thank you,” Alec says, doing nothing to wipe the smile off his face. It feels weird, like it’s been forever since he’s smiled so wide. But the heat on his cheeks is warm, and he’s not going to complain.

“Now that I’m sharing my lunch with you, can I at least get a name?”

“Alexander. Alec for short,” he adds a second later. “Yours?”

“Magnus.”

Alec watches him, _Magnus_ , watches him spear a fry and a piece of meat, watches as he brings it to his lips with a smile and a soft sigh of content. Alec does the same, and they sit in companionable silence, enjoying each other’s presence and the good food before them. 

He tries not to think about what it means when Magnus’ knee brushes against his, or the fact that he does nothing to create more distance between them. 

“Alexander,” Magnus starts, and Alec’s feels giddiness at the sound of his name on the man’s lips. “I’m not sure what happened, or why it happened, but you seem like a good person. Whoever she is, she doesn’t deserve you.”

_Oh, right._

He had forgotten about that situation, forgotten about the lonely nights in bed, his face smeared with ice cream and tears. His mind had been preoccupied, his plans to try and catch Magnus filled up all the blank space in his mind that was filled with the self-loathing and misery that was starting to become self-aware again. 

“He.”

“Excuse me?”

Alec catches his gaze, almost smirks at the genuine confusion he can see etched on Magnus’ brow. “I said he,” he murmurs around the food he’s just scooped into his mouth, an easy distraction from the doubts beginning to swirl.

“Oh,” Magnus whispers, and Alec is pleased to see the twinkle light up in those brown eyes that are suddenly too enthralling that he has to look away. “Well he doesn’t deserve you.” 

As hard as he tries, and as much as his brain wants him to be sad and mopey, being next to Magnus makes his heart want to smile. 

–

Tuesday and Wednesday are Magnus’ days off, he learns from the annoyed bartender he had seen on his past two visits. Alec had shrugged when he found out, ordered a beer anyways, and tapped at his phone until an adequate enough time had passed that he didn’t feel like a complete idiot leaving. 

He’s trying hard not to think about Magnus, trying to focus on work and his siblings. He’s doing a poor job of it. Not even Jace’s whining and incessant asking for advice on the girl from the bar, Carrie or something, catches his attention. 

_Stop being a creepy stalker._

Frustrated, Alec sits back in his seat, staring at the papers spread out in front of him. It’s late, _8:40_ _pm,_ and he’s still at work. He’s glaring down, willing the papers to light aflame, or hoping for some sort of hint that will help him figure this out when a knock brings him out of it. It’s Underhill, a grin at his lips as he crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. 

“Staring fear into it isn’t going to make it solve itself. That tactic doesn’t work on paper, only people, Lightwood.”

He can’t help the slight quirk of his lips, and he scrubs at his face with blunt fingers. “I’m just so exhausted, it’s been a long day. You’re here late.” 

“Same as you,” Underhill, the smile unfaltering, nods in the direction of the elevators outside of Alec’s office. “How about I take you out for a drink, I could use something hard and strong right now.”

Alec piques up at that, hurriedly stuttering out, “I know a place!”

Underhill watches him, says nothing as Alec stands up and shuffles his papers into his desk.

It doesn’t take them long to get there. A cab ride, which Underhill has offered to pay for, and then Alec is 10 feet away from Magnus, separated only by that foreboding purple door.

They make their way in, Alec more hesitant to which Underhill gives him a questioningly look since _it was your idea to come to this club_. 

It’s lively already, just past 9, and Alec looks past the clusters of people over at the bar, searching out one person in particular. Underhill places a hand at Alec’s back, directs them to the bar and doesn’t move his hand until they’re both sitting.

Alec doesn’t notice, can’t even comprehend anyone in those moments because Magnus is across the bar, bending down with an elbow propping his head up on the table, engrossed in what looks like a hilarious conversation with a pair of girls. Alec wants to watch him, wants to wait for him to notice that he’s here, but a surly face focuses in front of him and takes their order. It’s the same bartender he recognizes, that he should honestly probably learn the name of, but can’t be bothered. He doesn’t seem to like Alec anyways. 

Their drinks come slower than expected, and they are forced to fill the silence with small talk about work, both of them working on different cases at the moment. Underhill is eager and willing to talk, so Alec lets him, trying his best to look interested as he continues his attempt to make eye contact with Magnus.

A hand on his shoulder, unsure but solid, makes him turn back to Underhill who’s looking at him with a frown. He scans the bar area and turns back to Alec, his brows furrowed as he leans in close to whisper. “Are you okay, Alec? Are you trying to avoid someone? We can go somewhere else, y’know—“

“No,” Alec responds immediately, his palms wet around his beer with more than just condensation. Underhill is still close, and Alec offers a small smile to throw off his worries. “I’m fine, I just got distracted, sorry. Go on,” he urges.

He chances a glance back to Magnus once Underhill begins to talk again, sees the recognition flicker on his face with a smile before it changes into something else, something heavier and cryptic. He wants to go over and say hi, wants to ask him what’s wrong but he feels the squeeze on his arm where Underhill is still holding onto him and he tries to focus on his colleague. 

It’s hard to get Magnus’ attention after that, and it’s an hour later when Underhill leaves to use the restroom that Alec takes his chance. He stands, tries to bring the courage he knows is buried deep within him, and heads over to the side of the bar that Magnus has been stationed at, pushing his way in to lean against it.

“Magnus,” he says, loud enough that he knows he can be heard over the music.

Magnus turns to face him, and Alec feels that warmth again, low in his stomach. Magnus looks really good today, and Alec takes his time to look him up and down. The attire tonight seems to be another rolled-up-sleeve shirt, this one a forest green interlaced with a metallic gold print, the top three buttons undone to show off the prominent collar bone and glinting necklaces. His pants are as tight as ever, and Alec’s mind floods with the image of Magnus bent over the counter, wonders for a moment what it would look like in _these_ pants before he shakes the image away. 

“Alexander.”

The name sounds dull and bland, the usual lilt that makes Alec’s stomach fill gone. He frowns, tilts his head closer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” comes the quick response, and Magnus reaches down for a glass, tipping it down at the tap and filling it with the amber liquid before placing it in front of another customer. Alec watches him, watches the interaction with curious eyes. He sees the customer whisper something to Magnus, leans in too close in Alec’s opinion, and slips a bill into Magnus’ fingers. Magnus pulls back, stuffing the bill into his front pocket _somehow_ with how tight his jeans are, and flashes a flirty wink at the guy. 

Alec feels the agitation cut at him, feels his stomach twist with something he’s never felt when he’s been with Magnus. His mouth feels parched, and he wishes he had brought his beer with him. 

Those brown eyes are on him again, challenging, and Alec swallows dryly. “What can I get you to drink, Alexander?” 

He wants to say he’ll take whatever that guy got, wants to say nothing, but what comes out is “Whiskey. Double.”

Magnus opens his mouth, is about to say something but stops and looks over Alec’s shoulder.

“Make that two, please!” He hears Underhill, loud and friendly in his ear, standing behind Alec with a hand against his shoulder blade.

“Of course, _darling_ ,” Magnus drawls, his eyes narrowing, noticeable only to Alec. The drinks come quick, Alec watches Magnus pour it with ease, but he sets it down in front of them gracelessly. Underhill sets the money on the table, which Alec is about to protest since he’s already paid for the cab and the two beers before this. Magnus grabs the bill with what almost looks like disgust and moves onto the next customer, his smile back in place and the sight of it makes Alec feel sick. 

He doesn’t know what he’s done, doesn’t understand why Magnus is being so standoffish and cold, and he doesn’t get the chance to find out. Underhill stays close, the club is picking up and people are crowding even more around the bar. It’s around 11:30 when Alec and Underhill leave the club, and Alec feels the pull of intoxication when he tries to walk. 

He doesn’t drink to this level, doesn’t like feeling like he’s not in control of his body. Tonight is a fluke.

He feels himself being pushed into a cab, a hand on his head to keep him from hitting his head on the door, hot and uncomfortable against the sweat on his forehead. It’s not that it’s hot outside. The air is colder than the night before, it feels good against his overheated skin, but the alcohol fuels him with an uneasy burn and he’s trying hard to keep in the frustration as he watches the purple door speed out of sight. Everything is spinning, hot, stifling, and all Alec wants is to see Magnus smile, to know he’s done nothing wrong. 

But Magnus couldn’t have cared less about him tonight. Despite the fact that Alec went there with the intention of seeing him and having a good night after a stressful day, Magnus brushed him off and ran away.

_Whatever_ , Alec thinks through the fog of his liquor-addled mind. _We’re hardly friends anyways._

He smells the hint of whiskey, feels the hot breath as Underhill speaks to him but he doesn’t register the words he’s saying. When they get to his apartment, he stumbles out of the cab, and turns to thank Underhill who’s watching him with a happy smile. 

“Let’s do this again? I had a lot of fun.”

“Oh, uh,” he nods, the motion making his head spin more, and he sways in his spot. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

Underhill keeps watch, and when Alec turns to wave goodbye he notices where Underhill’s eyes have been but doesn’t have the capacity to deliberate on it. 

–

The days pass slower now that Alec doesn’t have Magnus to look forward to.

It’s been two weeks since he’s been to Fire Arrow, and his stomach churns thinking about it. He’s not sure if it’s because of the cruel hangover he suffered the next day, or if it’s the thought of Magnus, cold and unfriendly. 

“You’re moping again,” he hears Izzy beside him, and he turns to her with a glare.

“No I’m not.”

She raises a carefully arched eyebrow, motions to the tray of brownies in front of him that he’s already eaten three of. Slowly, as though hoping she won’t notice, he sets it down and crosses his arms.

“I just like sweets,” he huffs.

“Do you also like gaining thirty pounds? All you do is work, eat, eat _sweets_ , and sleep, Alec. It’s not healthy. Why don’t you go out and get some sun, have some fun? What about that club you liked going to so much?”

“I’m _fine_ , Izzy,” He snaps, lifting himself off the couch with more effort than he’s used to. His pulse quickens and he has the momentary terror that she may be right, maybe he is gaining weight. He makes the mental note to start going to the gym as he pads across the apartment to his room, the television a buzz in the background already forgotten. 

She follows him, annoyingly dancing around him as he tries to swat her away. “ _C’mon_ , big brother, let’s go out. It’s a Saturday and we’re both single, let’s go get some!” 

He sighs, rubbing at his temples to soothe away the headache he can feel forming. He never wants, in any way shape or form, to think about Izzy _getting some._

“No.”

“Alec, we need to get you out of this funk. I thought you were good there for a few weeks but you’re right back to where you started.”

“No.”

She groans, and turns to storm out of his room. “Fine,” she begins. “But I’m going out, and if you need me, you know where to find me.” 

He knows she’s right again, he hates that she is. He’s been moping over his friendship with Magnus, over the unexpectedness of it ending when it had just begun. It shouldn’t feel like such a loss, he shouldn’t think about Magnus this much, shouldn’t let it affect him the way it does. But he can’t help it. 

He misses the interesting conversations over french fries, the feel of Magnus’ hand on his arm or chest when he says something funny. Alec’s never really been the funny guy, never been good with jokes, but with Magnus he tries his best to get a smile out of him, and if Magnus fakes the smiles for his sake he’s none the wiser.

_Ugh, stupid Izzy_. 

It’s barely 10pm when he’s finally in front of the one place he doesn’t want to be. Or does. He’s really not sure yet. 

He opens it, gives his ID to the bouncer and is let in, the blues and reds of the lights filling his vision in the fog. It’s a light fog, really, he can still see relatively clearly, can make out the bar from where he stands, but tonight that club is thrumming with a heightened energy.

It’s Saturday. He’s never been here on a weekend, and the place is packed. It’s warmer than he expected, and he consciously undoes his top two buttons, missing the cold from outside that usually makes his bones hurt. 

Alec heads for the bar, where it’s comfortable and he knows what to expect, except there’s no Magnus there. There’s not even the guy who always looks like Alec’s personally offended him in some way. There’s just a woman, shaking a drink in her hand while she pours a different drink with her other hand, laughing and dancing to the beat of the music that vibrates from the ground. _She’s pretty_ , he thinks. But she’s not who he’s looking for. 

_Izzy_ , he reminds himself. He’s here for Izzy, not Magnus, and he’s here to make sure she’s not getting herself into trouble. 

_Not that she ever has before_ , he argues with himself. And he knows it’s true, Izzy’s strong and she’s fought off more men than Alec’s ever been there to see. She’d come home with the scuffs on her shoes and tears in her dress, excitedly acting out the whole story more times than Alec can vividly remember. 

He sees a flash of a white dress, knows that’s what she’s wearing tonight, and heads over to the dance floor. 

The closer he gets, the more people he sees that push and shove at him, he can feel the agitation rising in his shoulders and it’s all he can do not to snap at the next person that touches him. This is definitely not his scene, he doesn’t like this, it’s claustrophobic and he needs to get out of here. He’ll find Izzy later.

Turning in what he hopes is the way out, he takes a step forward before he’s forced back. He’s about to turn around to yell at whoever grabbed at him, fully prepared to make some scathing remark despite the fact that he willingly walked in here, but is stopped short when he feels more than hears his name against his neck. 

“Magnus,” he whispers back, and while the fog doesn’t look thick from the outside, here in the middle of it, it’s smothering and opaque. But he doesn’t need to see right now, he knows it’s Magnus, he can feel his bartender’s elegant hands on his sides, swaying him in an attempt to get him to move. 

He knows Magnus is dancing, he feels the lithe body pressed against his back, can feel Magnus’ forehead against his shoulder, his hair tickling his skin. But he’s struck where he stands, the ability to move of his own accord suddenly lost on him. 

“Dance with me,” he feels Magnus whisper into his ear, and the heat is back and hitting him harder than it ever has before. He wants to turn, wants to _see_ Magnus, but before he forces his limbs to _do something_ , Magnus is dancing around him until they’re face to face.

Alec’s sure he looks like a fool, looks like a damn idiot with his mouth open as he _stares_ at Magnus, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to care about what he looks like because he’s finally got Magnus’ attention again and he’s being offered the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, a smile that fills his lungs and makes his heart float out of his chest. 

But Magnus soon turns expectant, and Alec remembers that he wants to dance. “I-I can’t dance…”

Magnus’ brows shoot up and he throws his head back in laughter, Alec’s eyes following the trail of skin that leads down to his half buttoned shirt, follows the trail his sweat makes as the beaded drop falls lower into his shirt. “Everyone can dance, you just need the right partner,” he purrs, leaning closer to Alec.

Everything seems dark now, there are lights that catch in the fog to illuminate the room, but it’s still dark because everything that Alec sees is through a haze that focuses only on Magnus. 

He feels movement, feels Magnus’ body pressed completely against Alec’s, his arms hanging loosely around his neck to clasp behind him. Alec doesn’t know what to do with his own hands. He’s danced before in formal settings, but never like this, not in a club with another man. He sets them on Magnus’ waist at first, awkward and rigid, before he slides them lower to his hips. _Better_ , he thinks, the studs of Magnus’ belt jutting out and pressing marks into his hands, and Alec doesn’t mind. It’s expected; It feels normal in a situation that is so completely foreign. 

“See,” Magnus simpers, his voice sultry and low, and Alec’s senses are filled with _Magnus_ , pure scent, sound and touch. Before he realizes it, he’s clutching at Magnus’ body, and Magnus is shifting and grinding, and is this what dancing is? Is it supposed to feel this good, having someone else so close and all-encompassing? He hardly feels the beat, it’s bouncing off of everything around him, but he can’t pay attention to anything besides the bartender wrapped around him and all over. Magnus is his music.

It ends too soon, he’s barely started, but the song transitions into something else equally up-beat, a change enough that it draws them out of their trance. He wants to go back to the last few minutes, wants to rewind time and live in the moments with Magnus surrounding him completely. 

He gazes down through heavy lids and is met with a look that makes the blood pound under his skin, makes him want to lick his lips, lick Magnus’. Everything he feels is swimming through those pools that he longs to sink down into and never surface from, and it scares him how badly he wants this. It scares him that he thinks he’s not the only one who feels this way. But he needs to know, he’s not going to risk anything on a feeling that may not be reciprocated. 

“Alec?!”

They startle, quickly and effectively breaking the stupor they’ve been caught in, turning to meet the owner of the voice that’s cut through the crowd. Izzy’s there, grinning between them and Alec feels his face heat with a blush that nobody will be able to see through the fog, but that he knows is hot and red against his skin. He feels the arms untangle from his body, fingers that linger just a little longer than they should, and he misses it already. He misses Magnus’ warm strength that feels right, feels like it belongs. 

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Magnus chirps, and dances his way through the crowd of people along the way. Alec tries not to stare, tries not to notice his hips and the way Magnus’ hands graze and touch and his body _slides_ against everyone else like this is what he thrives on. 

Izzy’s look is calculating and accusatory when Alec turns back to her, and it makes him hate that he’s been caught in something he can’t explain. He needs to get out of here, out of this hot mess he’s dived head first into. 

She links her arms around his, leads them away to a booth that’s just been freed up. He doesn’t miss the twinkle in her eyes, doesn’t comment on the playful smirk she’s got pinned to her face now because he knows if he does she’ll attack. 

He knows he’s in for a long night, and he has no clue how to get out of it now. This was a bad idea. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Comments and Kudos are appreciated!
> 
> There's one more part, it should be uploaded around the same time next week. (":


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